<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Jumper by InnerSpectrum</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049454">The Jumper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum'>InnerSpectrum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style, Brotherly Love, Caring Sherlock Holmes, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Mycroft Being a Good Brother</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:27:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft opens a Christmas gift from Sherlock that takes him back in time...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes &amp; Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes &amp; Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style, Festive Johnlock Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Jumper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the 2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style - my prompt "Ugly Christmas Sweater"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Holmes had a family tradition of allowing each person to open one and only one gift on Christmas Eve, all the rest had to wait until Christmas Day. A week ago, Sherlock and John dropped off their gifts for him and Greg. Among them was something framed, a gift from Sherlock to Mycroft. Mycroft has spent the past few days eyeing the package with increasing interest. It was now Christmas Eve. Even so he waited until after 7 o’clock just to prove to himself he could. So, Greg was not in the least surprised when Mycroft calmly walked into the living room with two mugs of hot cocoa, calmly sat and chatted about nonsense, calmly waited while Gregory opened a gift from his sister, before Mycroft calmly reached for the gift as though he was not all but dying of curiosity then not so calmly ripped the paper away.</p><p>“Oh…? Oh…!” Mycroft paused mid tear as he took his first look at the item and gasped.</p><p>“Myc….?” Greg leaned over to see what caused such a reaction from his suddenly quiet husband, “What is that? Is that supposed to be a reindeer?”</p><p>“We assumed so…” Mycroft chuckled softly as he removed the rest of the paper. “I never knew this still existed...”</p><p>"Is it yours?"</p><p>"No, my brother's..."</p><p>Greg could tell Mycroft was moved by the gift, “I can tell there's a story, Love.  Tell me about it, then…” </p><p>~~~~</p><p>Sherlock, at nearly a year old, was a new toddler with surprisingly well-developed physical coordination for his tender age. Well, surprising to everyone but eight-year-old Mycroft who managed it at six months, but most of the adults had long forgotten about that feat. At eleven months old, this was Sherlock’s very first Christmas and for some reason he absolutely refused to wear the pullover their Aunt Victoria had made for him. Mummy had put it on and walked away. Sherlock, not quite up to full sentences yet, started fussing as he made a face after a couple of minutes. Fascinated with the process Mycroft watched as a determined Sherlock struggled with it, but took it off.</p><p>When Mummy returned, she put it on him again. Mycroft watched as Sherlock looked down as though surprised to have it on once more. Both he and Mummy watched as the tyke took it off again; faster this time. Though his diction and enunciation were lacking, understandable given his age, Sherlock had an excellent vocabulary. Still, he had a favorite word; his first word spoken and he emphatically used it now with a pout “No!”</p><p>“Sherlock, you have to wear the jumper, dearie.” Mummy tried again. Little Sherlock became more agitated to the point of outright screaming. Sherlock was generally a curious and overly joyful baby, but Mycroft had already noticed the willful personality emerging when faced with something he did not like; such as vegetables, and the Christmas jumper.</p><p>“He doesn't want to wear the jumper, Mummy.” Mycroft pointed out what was obvious to him, not understanding why his mother continued to try.</p><p>A frustrated Mummy placed the bawling Sherlock back in his crib and turned to her elder son, “Victoria will be most put out if he’s not wearing it. Can you get him to keep it on? I need to check dinner…”</p><p>“Mummy, the thing is hideous and the animal, I think is supposed to be reindeer, is googly-eyed and not in a fun way. I don’t blame him.”</p><p>“Mycroft!”</p><p>“Fine. I will try, but I cannot promise to be any more successful than you were, Mummy.”</p><p>Just then the melodious sounds of the front door bell were heard.</p><p>“That’s going to be Vicki. Just try Mycroft, your aunt will be up here any minute wanting to see her nephew in the jumper she made.”</p><p>“Yes, Mummy.”</p><p>He waited until she left the room before he approached his brother.</p><p>Mycroft chuckled to himself seeing the crib. In Mummy’s frustration with dressing her youngest she had not noticed she left the side of the crib down when she plopped him inside it. Sherlock, sobbing in the corner, had not noticed either until Mycroft spoke.</p><p>“What gives, little brother?”</p><p>Sherlock looked up, saw the side was down and quickly crawled for the edge as Mycroft pulled up a chair and sat by the crib.</p><p>“Oh no you don’t!” he caught the scampering boy just as Sherlock reached the edge.</p><p>Sherlock’s red rimmed bright eyes practically glowed in the tear-stained cherubic face. Under his face, neck and arms where his undershirt did not cover him were splotchy. He quieted some as Mycroft reached out and stroked the mop of dark curls.</p><p>Sherlock rubbed at his neck and looked up at his older brother with hope. It was a hope that segued quickly to wariness when Mycroft picked up the pullover.</p><p>“No.” Sherlock hiccupped and pointed at it.</p><p>Mycroft at eight understood his Aunt Victoria’s desire and why Mummy wanted her sister to see Sherlock in the hand-crafted item, but such reasoning was beyond his baby brother. Sherlock was set against the jumper and there was nothing short of forced compliance that would get him in it.</p><p>“It is an ugly thing to look at, isn’t it?” Mycroft made an exaggerated face of displeasure as he straightened it out and looked it over.</p><p>“NO!” Sherlock scrambled away when Mycroft tried to reach for him again.</p><p>“It’s okay, little brother. It’s just an ugly Christmas jumper. It won’t hur...”</p><p>Sherlock twisted up his face in such a way that Mycroft quickly dropped the jumper in prevention of what he knew would have been a monster of all tantrums had he proceeded.</p><p>Mycroft absentmindedly scratched at his back of his hand as he tried to figure out a way to explain things to his aunt as he heard her approach.</p><p>“And what is this then? I hear my nephew won’t wear the lovely jumper I made just for him?” Victoria entered the nursery and came straight to the crib, “I will not hear of this! You, Mycroft, not wearing my gifts when you were his age was bad enough. Mon petite will wear it! Come now Sherlock dear.”</p><p>Mycroft looked from the jumper to his little brother with a flash of understanding just as his Aunt Vicki reached out for Sherlock who let himself be picked up not realizing what was about to happen.</p><p>“Aunt Victoria don’t…” Mycroft attempted to warn her, but it was too late.</p><p>The moment Sherlock saw the woman pick up the jumper he let loose a piercing wail.</p><p>“What is wrong with you?” she struggled with the kicking and screaming toddler.</p><p>“Stop!” Mycroft snatched the jumper from his aunt’s hand.</p><p>“Mycroft!” his aunt yelled as he threw it to the floor.</p><p>“No ugly Christmas jumper Aunt Victoria!” Mycroft quickly pulled his baby brother into his arms “He doesn’t want to wear it!”</p><p>“Mycroft David Alexander Holmes!” Mummy walked into the room just when Mycroft kicked the jumper away from him as he turned to keep his aunt from taking Sherlock again.</p><p>“Mummy he should not have to wear an ugly jumper if he does not want to!” Mycroft glared at his aunt even as he rubbed comforting circles on Sherlock’s back.</p><p>“That’s it, Mycroft! No dessert for you! And you will apolog…”</p><p>“Fine, I won't eat dessert," he ignored the brows raised in surprise from the two women, this was more important, "but I will not apologize. He’s allergic to whatever yarns she used, look!”</p><p>“What?” both sisters exclaimed.</p><p>Mycroft held out his brother’s arm and showed the redness of the splotches and scratches. “It itches him and me.”</p><p>He held out his own hand and showed similar irritation where the jumper had touched him when he had held it. “He does not have the words to tell us that. All he can say is <em>no</em>.”</p><p>“What? That’s preposterous!” Victoria picked up the jumper and turned towards the boys her intent clear. “He’s all red because he’s bawling. He’s…”</p><p>“No!” Mycroft held his baby brother with his arms wrapped tightly around the small body, prepared to run.</p><p>“Vicki, stop this!” Mummy snatched the jumper from her sister. “He’s crying because you’re scaring him. Look at his neck and chin where it touched him directly. I…”</p><p>Sherlock, barely calmed, turned and saw Mummy with the offending item and opened his mouth to bawl again.</p><p>“Sherlock no. You’re not wearing the jumper.” Mycroft gently bounced his brother in his arms as he backed away from his mother and Aunt, “You’re not!”</p><p>“Are you sure he is only eight?” Victoria frowned.</p><p>Mummy, realizing what nearly set Sherlock off again, threw the jumper to a chair in a corner. She turned to her eldest child, “My apologies darling, I hate to dump this on you, but I really need to finish dinner can…”</p><p>“It’s okay, I’ll see to him, Mummy.” Mycroft volunteered.</p><p>“Thank you!” she blew him a kiss, then grabbed her sister by the arm and marched her out of the room. “Leave them be. I can’t believe you’d put your vanity over your nephews’ well-being for an ugly jumper!”</p><p>“Violet!” Victoria huffed offended.</p><p>Mycroft couldn’t help his smile as the sniffling cherub lifted his head as soon as the women were gone. Sherlock may not quite be a year, but the elder Holmes brother suspected Sherlock may very well be at the onset of the dreaded Terrible Twos, going by his behavior.</p><p>“It’s okay now. They’re gone.” Mycroft grabbed a flannel and wiped the tears from Sherlock’s face. “Let’s get you to the washroom and see if we can stop the itching.”</p><p>On the way back from the washroom a much calmer Sherlock, who insisted on toddling, grabbed Mycroft’s leg and pointed to the jumper as they passed it. Now dry eyes peered up at him. “No…ugee jum’er?”</p><p>“No ugly jumper.” Mycroft assured him, “You won’t have to wear any ugly Christmas jumper ever again if you don’t want to. I promise!”</p><p>Sherlock spread out his arms to be picked up and Mycroft indulged him.</p><p>“Mycoff… tancoo…” Sherlock leaned against Mycroft’s body and sleepily rubbed his face against Mycroft’s shoulder.</p><p>Mycroft nearly stumbled in surprise. It was the first time Sherlock had said his name.</p><p>He ran a hand through the soft riot of curls in wonder. Something he did not have the words for opened inside him as he stared at the bundle he held with awe.</p><p>“You’re welcome…”</p><p>Sherlock had worn himself out with the crying and put up no fuss when Mycroft placed him in his crib and raised the side back up. He thought about how he had protected Sherlock from his Aunt Victoria. He was prepared to take him from his aunt and even Mummy if they had tried to put the jumper on him again.</p><p>Mycroft David Alexander Holmes was all of eight years old, but he knew then and there he would always protect his baby brother from harm.</p><p>“I will always be there for you…” he reached in and gently pulled the thumb from between the sleeping lips as two words were about to fall from his own lips for the first time, “…<em>Brother Mine</em>.”</p><p>~~~~~</p><p>“It was the very first time I called him that.” Mycroft ran his fingers along the glass over the old jumper in fond memory. "Neither of us has worn a Christmas jumper since."</p><p>“You’ve been meddling in his life that long, huh?” Gregory teased.</p><p>“Pretty much…” Mycroft sniffed, not in the least offended by the jest. He pulled out the accompanying card and read it aloud, “Now I understand. I don’t think I have ever thanked you without sarcasm, not even after Serbia. I do it now. ‘<em>Thank you, Brother Mine</em>.’ Happy Christmas, from your grating but grateful brother, Sherlock.”</p><p>“Whoa! He put that in print? That’s… lovely.” Greg ran a thumb over Mycroft’s slightly trembling lip, “I want to tease, but I can’t make myself do it. It's just too sweet of a gesture to mock it. Call him, you know he’s waiting for it…”</p><p>Mycroft took out his phone and dialed his brother.</p><p>“Mummy was cleaning in the attic. She found it and gave it to me during one of her and Dad’s trips to London a few years back.” Sherlock answered the unasked without preamble. “I didn't remember it, so she told the story behind it and emphasized how you gave up dessert without batting an eye for baby me.”</p><p>Mycroft rolled his eyes, then realized what Sherlock said. </p><p>“Mummy gave it to you a few years ago?” Mycroft frowned, “Then why…?”</p><p>“Two weeks ago, Watson put her tiny arms around my neck and said she loved me. Well, her exact words were ‘Wuv you Sh’ock’ but I understood.” Sherlock imitated Rosie, his and John’s three year old daughter with wistfulness, "She… she had never said that to me before. You know I have adored Watson since the day she was born, but in that moment something…happened. And just like that I didn’t just know, I truly <em>understood</em> why you have done all you've done, and still do for me. I understand it for I know would do the same for her. I recalled the jumper then and I wanted to acknowledge it, <em>just this once mind you</em>. Happy Christmas, Mycroft.”</p><p>“Happy Christmas, Sherlock.” Mycroft softly smiled at the nod to Sherlock and John's favorite <em>Not Your Housekeeper</em> and rang out. His phone buzzed a moment later.</p><p>››TEXT›› Not that it’s going to stop me from continuing to be an utter arse to you. —SH</p><p>››TEXT›› I would expect nothing less. —MH</p><p>“Let’s find someplace to hang the ugly thing?” Greg grinned in understanding.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Mycroft tucked the card just inside the frame and gazed at the holiday jumper with its googly-eyed, reindeer like beast as though it were the one of the most beautiful things in the world. Because he knew, for the rest of his life, it would be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know it's supposed to be Johnlock, but Muse wants what she wants and she wanted brotherly love.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>